


it's been twenty years (but a man keeps his word)

by Nate_de_Coco



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, First Date, First Love, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nate_de_Coco/pseuds/Nate_de_Coco
Summary: Kuroo finds an old letter from his school days, telling his 6th grade crush that he’d have to postpone their “date” because he hasn’t gotten that week’s allowance yet.So he hits up Sawamura Daichi on Facebook, twenty years later, to let him know he has money for that date now.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 116





	it's been twenty years (but a man keeps his word)

Kuroo is cackling.

The full-bodied, crazed-hyena chortle his friends give him so much shit for.

And still, he can’t stop laughing.

In his hands is a fairly crumpled piece of paper from nearly two decades ago, the creases so well worn they’re almost tearing, the edges yellowed and the ink beginning to fade. But still the words jump out of the paper as clear as the day they’ve been written, pulling from him memories of elementary school days in Miyagi, an eleven-year old Tetsuro teasing and bantering with the cute, stalwart boy in his class who had always called him on his BS.

Daichi Sawamura.

_ Hey, _

Kuroo’s letter begins, his scrawl neat even then. He takes pride in that.

_ What am I gonna do about our “date”? _

_ I didn’t get my allowance yet. _

_ Let’s just move it next time. _

And in a penmanship less legible than his, Sawamura had written back:

_ Hmmm… what’re we gonna do? _

_ I was really looking forward to the festival. _

_ The next one’s still a few months away. :( _

Kuroo had not written back.

By this point, he no longer remembers why the correspondence had ended there, but it does seem like a shame he hadn't pursued this with his crush. He flips the paper to the back to see some math equations (all correct, of course, he  _ did  _ graduate top of his class after all), as well as a reminder about the exam schedule, but apart from that, little else interesting had been documented on this paper.

Kuroo feels a warm sense of nostalgia wash over him as he recalls his last year in Miyagi, before his father’s work had taken him to big, bustling Tokyo, where Kuroo had lived ever since. Now, it’s been almost twenty years to the date (based off, at least, on the dates of the exam), and Kuroo wonders about Daichi Sawamura.

He’d always thought fondly of that boy.

Sawamura was a popular figure in their old elementary school. And why wouldn’t he be? He was handsome in that classic, boy-next-door kind of way. Lush brown hair cropped short, eyes warm as melted chocolate. More than that, Sawamura was an incredible person. Even though they were an age, he had been so much more mature than Kuroo and everyone in their class. Stalwart, reliable, trustworthy. Teachers would literally leave entire classrooms to him, and if Kuroo remembers correctly, there was even one time he had managed a class far better than the poor, harried substitute.

Really, he was such a classic Golden Boy that Kuroo had taken  _ immense  _ pleasure (and pride) ruffling his feathers. Breaking down that wall of maturity to bring out the childish eleven-year-old within. 

Case in point: getting him to actually pass notes in class when all their teachers had  _ strict _ no notes-passing rules.

Yeah, he had it bad for Sawamura.

And apparently, Kuroo still owes him a date.

So Kuroo once again cackles.

As he picks himself up from the pile of childhood knick-knacks and miscellaneous items (he was looking for his birth certificate, and that had been four hours ago; needless to say said document had  _ not  _ been located) and ambles over to his phone, charging beside the bed. Flopping down, Kuroo pulls up his camera, snaps a quick picture of the letter, and begins his online hunt for his childhood crush.

Kuroo doesn’t think anything will come out of it, or course. He’s thirty-one years old. Sawamura is probably married with kids. Hell, almost all of Kuroo’s friends, even those younger than him, are married with kids now. Still, it would be a good, nostalgic laugh, and Kuroo wouldn’t mind getting in contact with an old friend again.

So he scrolls through his Facebook friends, deciding it would be easier to find him through mutual connections (“Daichi Sawamura” being a fairly common name—and who knows if that’s what he even goes as). He taps on Koushi Sugawara’s profile, Mr. Refreshing and one of the most popular kids in class, and scrolls through Suga’s friends list to find—

—there. Daichi Sawamura.

Holy  _ shit _ , he’s a cop now.

Kuroo sits up on the bed suddenly, heart pounding in excitement.

Oh, this is  _ too  _ good. Kuroo would honestly feel disappointed when he inevitably finds a picture of Sawamura’s wife and/or kids, but there is simply no way this fine,  _ fine  _ man had stayed single, or at least, unmarried, when he had grown up to be—

—well, this.

_ This  _ in all its glorious, well-muscled, law-enforcing glory.

Before Kuroo’s thumb hovers over the  _ Add as friend _ button, he swipes over to Twitter and fires out several texts in rapid succession to his best friend, Yaku. He gushes, he memes, he spouts total filth about the absolute  _ meal  _ Sawamura has become, and it is only after sufficiently exorcising his more impure thoughts, thanks in part to Yaku’s litany of curses bluntly telling Kuroo to get his shit together, that Kuroo returns to Facebook and presses the button.

He returns to messaging Yaku, but not even five minutes pass by when a notification banner pings letting him know:

_ Daichi Sawamura accepted your friend request. _

Kuroo’s fingers fly across the screen so fast. Tapping on the messaging button, he texts:

_ Hey, Sawamura! Remember me? It’s Kuroo from 5th and 6th grade! _

As soon as he hits send, the telltale ellipses come to life, letting him know that Sawamura is responding.

Classic Sawamura. Doesn’t even leave a guy on  _ read _ .

_ Hey Kuroo! Of course I remember you. Long time no talk! How are you? _

They exchange pleasantries for some time. In the span of half hour, Kuroo learns that 1) Daichi has stayed in Miyagi for the most part, only briefly moving to Tokyo to study his undergraduate (and wasn’t that a shame they had never ran into each other!).

And 2) he’s single.

Unmarried. No kids. Not even a girlfriend or a boyfriend.

Kuroo thinks it’s fate.

(Yaku thinks it’s sad.)

So he sends the photo of the twenty-year-old letter and says:

_ Well, I have my allowance now. Do you want to go to that festival? ;) _

Daichi says yes.

* * *

Two weeks later, and fourteen days of near-daily texting with Sawamura, Kuroo steps off the bullet train and hoists his bag higher on his shoulder. To be fair, he  _ is  _ here on business, first and foremost. With Olympic season coming up, Kuroo and the rest of the Japan Volleyball Association marketing and communications departments are scrambling to get the best sponsorship deals for their athletes. For Kuroo, this means securing the support of the Miyagi prefecture and its capital of Sendai, home to several of the National Team players.

Sendai City only happens to be where Sawamura is stationed as a detective.

(Kuroo now  _ believes  _ it’s all fate because, honestly? What are the odds? Yaku’s concedes it does look like a happy coincidence).

He makes his way to the station’s lobby, earphones on and mind wandering, and nearly passes by a man in a trench coat (suspicious, the whole thing) when he suddenly reaches out and grabs Kuroo’s arm.

Kuroo jolts in surprise, instinctively slamming his bag on his accoster to protect himself. It would have done considerable damage, too, had the man not jumped away with incredible dexterity, catching the side of Kuroo’s bag just enough to stop its dangerous momentum. “Kuroo? Are you Kuroo? It’s me!”

Kuroo, heart pumping pure adrenaline through his veins, takes a moment to recognize the kindly, if slightly indiscriminate, face of his childhood crush. “Oh, shit, Sawamura! I’m sorry! I didn’t recognize you. Why’d you grab me like that!” He laughs awkwardly, pocketing his earphones and grasping Sawamura’s proffered hand.

But rather than shaking it as Kuroo had expected, Sawamura grabs Kuroo’s forearm instead and pulls him into a bear hug. Sawamura’s arms come up around Kuroo, molding him firmly to his ( _ holy hell _ , glorious) body and patting him on the back, “My god, it’s good to see you!”

Kuroo hugs him back, and if he happens to catch a whiff of Sawamura’s fresh, clean scent, it’s  _ purely  _ by coincidence and not because Kuroo had been purposely trying to get a whiff of him.

(Sawamura had  _ always  _ smelled good. Even after hours at the playground when they had all been drenched in sweat, Kuroo distinctly remembers that Sawamura still smells, unbelievably, good.

When they pull apart, Sawamura maintains his grip on Kuroo’s forearms. He has to crane his neck to look Kuroo in the eyes now, and though he’s always been the shorter friend, Kuroo nearly has five inches on him this time.

(It’s the perfect height to place his chin on Sawamura’s head.)

“I was calling your name but it didn’t look like you heard me. Sorry for surprising you,” says Sawamura, looking sheepish. “But hell—look at you, you fancy city boy.” Kuroo chortles over Sawamura’s exaggerated pronunciation, making it sound like ‘ _ shitty boy _ ’. “Still laughing like a deranged hyena, I see. Welcome back to Miyagi!”

“Did you really come to pick me up?” Kuroo asks, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, you asked me to, didn’t you?” his friend shrugs, as if picking up an old classmate who has virtually been a stranger for the last two decades is nothing unusual. And for solid, reliable Sawamura, it might actually be so.

“I mean, I won’t hold it against you if you didn’t. I thought detectives are too busy fighting crime?” Kuroo teases as they walk out of the station. There’s a police car waiting for them outside, a man leaning against it, bored and seemingly impervious to the curious looks he is getting. Sawamura leads them to the vehicle, blushing profusely and looking thoroughly abashed.

“Umm… yeah, something like that. We came here straight from a case, so…” He gestures to his entourage, “This is Matsumoto, my partner.” Kuroo shakes the other detective’s outstretched hand, and they exchange quick introductions. Before long, the three men file into the car, Kuroo immensely enjoying the rare opportunity to ride a cop car (that doesn’t involve him being arrested). All things considered, it’s nothing too fancy. With the exception of the divider and a few gadgets whose names and purposes Kuroo isn’t privy to, it’s not much different from a regular vehicle.

But still.

“Sorry, am I keeping you from work, Sawamura?” Kuroo asks with worry as his friend’s partner revs up the engine and pulls out of the parking lot. From the rearview mirror, Kuroo spies the knowing look Matsumoto fires at Sawamura, who, eyes focused on the road, does not catch this. 

“No, not at all!” Sawamura assures him, “We just wrapped up, I’m off the clock now, actually.” He grins at Kuroo through the mirror on the passenger sun visor, and despite the lingering unease, Kuroo relaxes in the face of that familiar, teasing smile.

It’s like nothing has changed in twenty years, that smile.

Sawamura gives his partner directions to Kuroo’s hotel and it’s only a short while later that they pull up in front of his building. If Kuroo had noticed the cars that had allowed their vehicle to pass on ahead, cutting their travel time by at least half, potentially, he keeps it to himself.

They alight, and Sawamura briefly chats with his colleague as Kuroo moves ahead after thanking Matsumoto. He catches bits of their conversation—“ _ you owe me for this,  _ senpai”, “ _ I already know; one week of paperwork _ ”, and “ _ good luck, lover boy _ ”—but he figures it’s none of his business although the last part certainly has his ears perking. He’ll figure a way to weasel that tidbit of information later from his former school chum.

“Let me just drop my stuff off and we can go explore!” Kuroo says when Sawamura rejoins him. They walk up to the receptionist and Kuroo checks in, “Tetsuro Kuroo for Japan Volleyball Association.” He says, producing his ID and business memo from his bag. The receptionist checks him against the system, but frowns. “Is there a problem?” Kuroo asks when the staff rechecks his memo and her computer.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. Just a minor glitch. Our system is showing you’re only checked in for one person. If your companion could give me his ID, I could fix this right up.” She beams happily at them, “It’s a deluxe suite, anyway, so exactly the room for couples.”

Sawamura chokes as Kuroo barks out a laugh, “Oh, no, miss, you got it wrong, I live here!” Sawamura explains badly. At this, Kuroo guffaws even louder, his usual abrasive laugh drawing attention. Sawamura eyes him in disbelief, evidently wondering why Kuroo wasn’t correcting her, as the receptionist glances between them in confusion.

“What he  _ means _ to say is though it doesn’t look like it, we’re not together.” Kuroo clarifies, and understanding dawns on the staff member. Continuing to explain, Kuroo drapes an arm across Sawamura’s shoulder as the other one intertwines their hands, “Though I don’t blame you. We make a beautiful couple, no?”

Sawamura rolls his eyes and sighs heavily in exasperation, but otherwise makes no move to dislodge him. Kuroo takes heart.

The receptionist giggles at this and types in a few more things. “Well in that case, you’re good to go, Mr. Kuroo. Please let us know if you’d like to change your arrangements or if you’ll need anything else. Reception is asterisk-zero. Have a pleasant stay, sir!” She informs him, handing him his keycard and items back. Kuroo winks, pulling Sawamura to the main lobby.

The hotel is beautiful. A marble fountain sits in the middle of the expansive lobby, designed in the European style that is the hotel’s architecture. Tall pillars lead up to a gorgeously painted ceiling, the art reminiscent of Renaissance masterpieces. Every inch of space is a tasteful bit of luxury, and Kuroo couldn’t have picked a better place to spend the next month of business than this.

But Sawamura doesn’t seem to share this sentiment.

As they cross to the elevators, Kuroo notices the unease on his friend’s features. He is tugging on the collar of his winter coat, fumbling with his hands as though restless. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did you need to go back to work after all?” Kuroo asks, calling for the elevator. “I’m really sorry for dragging you here. I can book an Uber for you, if you’d like?” He offers, pulling out his phone and already opening the app.

Sawamura quickly assures him, “Ah, no, it’s not that!” He says, “I just… well… it’s kind of ridiculous and you’d probably think I’m too old fashioned but…” he glances around awkwardly, “i don’t think you should be flirting with me when you’re married.”

Kuroo pauses as the elevator reaches the ground floor, opening up to let out the passengers.

“... What?”

“C’mon, let’s go.” Says Sawamura, ushering Kuroo into the lift when he remains frozen. It’s also Sawamura who punches in Kuroo’s floor when Kuroo continues to stare at him in puzzlement. “What? I don’t know how things are in Tokyo but here at least, we don’t flirt with other people when we’re in committed relationships!” Sawamura huffs, candid since there’s no one else on the lift with them.

The elevator is at the third floor where the main dining halls are, when Kuroo finally regains his bearings, “I’m not married!” He blurts out as the doors open and people begin to file in. They eye the two men oddly, catching the pronouncement, so Kuroo pitches his voice low when Sawamura shuffles closer to him as the space becomes crowded, “Where did you get  _ that  _ idea.”

“I saw the ring.”

“I have  _ multiple _ rings.”

“How should I have known it wasn’t a wedding ring!”

“I asked you on a  _ date _ !”

“I thought you were joking! You sent me that picture from sixth grade.”

“Oh my god, I—” Kuroo pauses when several passengers give them the stink eye. Realizing his voice had climbed in volume, he resumes whispering, “I’ve been  _ flirting  _ with you  _ all this time _ !”

“You’ve always been like that!” Sawamura fires back, voice low but head angled towards Kuroo’s face so he can be heard. In this position, his minty breath fans over the sensitive skin of Kuroo’s neck, his exhales puffing the little hairs there. Kuroo shivers, suddenly warm, suddenly a naive boy of eleven, crushing  _ bad  _ all over again.

“We’ll continue this later.” He says instead when they mercifully reach his floor, and the two of them mutter their excuses as they squeeze past the other passengers, two burly men trying to shimmy out of a cramped space.

When they manage to fill out, they laugh at their exertions. Kuroo leads the way to his hotel room, swipes his card, and bids Sawamura to duck in first. Sawamura brushes past him, and Kuroo makes no move to give him more space. As such, Sawamura’s side rubs against his front, and Kuroo grins at the contact. His friend rolls his eyes. “It’s like sixth grade all over again.” He says, padding further into the room as Kuroo locks behind them. “You really know how to make a menace of yourself.”

There’s a soft fondness in his tone and words, like he’s remembering their shared childhood, and Kuroo couldn’t help his cheshire grin, “It’s a science I’ve mastered, Dai- _ chan _ .” He teases, reverting to Sawamura’s old, hated nickname. Rather than getting flustered as he had used to, Sawamura laughs in surprised amusement. 

“Oh, man, I haven’t heard that from  _ you  _ in a long while. I used to hate how all the kids started teasing me for it ‘cuz you did it first.” He walks around the room, seemingly having a casual look-see, but Kuroo quickly notices the oddness in his actions; picking up objects but inspecting them far too carefully for casual curiosity. Reaching behind furniture or sliding his fingers into slots. Eyes skimming nooks and corners, as if to search for something.

He’s  _ inspecting  _ the room, Kuroo realizes. “What’re you doing? Do you think there’s some sketchy stuff here?” Kuroo asks in amazement, voice trailing off at the thought that something foul could be afoot.

Instead of shrugging it off, Sawamura actually says: “Hmm, you never know. Better safe than sorry.” His answer pulls Kuroo up short, but he says nothing more as Sawamura finishes his rounds (twice—he even lingered in the bathroom). “Okay, all done! You should definitely check your rooms before settling down. At best, it’ll be a relatively harmless peeping tom. At worst…” he shrugs, “Well, in any case, this one checks out.”

“Jesus, Sawamura, that’s frightening.”

“The  _ world  _ is frightening. I’m trying to make it less so.”

At this, Kuroo feels his heart constrict. Stalwart, dependable, trustworthy Sawamura had grown up to be this kind of man, and damn if Kuroo isn’t genuinely proud to be his friend.  _ If only there are more people like him in this world _ , Kuroo thinks wistfully.

“Well, thank you for your service,” Kuroo says lightly, not wanting to pursue the heavy topic just yet. Instead, like he normally does, he deflects it with humor, “You really haven’t changed much, Dai- _ chan _ . It’s actually cute.”

Sawamura rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time, “Neither have you,  _ Tetsu _ .” He quips back, smirking at the childish nickname, probably thinking the barb hits for Kuroo the same way it does for him  _ except  _ the diminutive of Kuroo’s name, coming from  _ him _ , in that  _ deep _ , masculine voice of his—well. It sounds anything but childish.

Or innocent.

Kuroo shakes his head to clear away the lurid thoughts beginning to take hold. Who knew reuniting with a childhood crush would come with too many conversation landmines?  _ Dangerous _ . “Okay, I’m done for now! Let’s hit the road!” Kuroo says and maybe it’s overly loud in the silence of the room, but Sawamura simply grins as they head out again. Locking the door, Kuroo remembers their earlier conversation. “Oh, man, I can’t believe you thought I was married!” He cackles. “And you were so  _ flustered! _ ” Recalling Sawamura’s hilariously discomfitted face, Kuroo laughs even harder, his weird guffaws echoing in the hotel hallway.

Sawamura looks chagrined, which makes Kuroo chortle louder, until finally, the comical sounds pull an answering laughter from Sawamura, and they’re both doubled over in mirth. “Holy hell your laugh got  _ worse _ ! How’s that even possible?”

“Fuck off, man.” 

“Still so foul-mouthed. Do you kiss your grandma with that mouth?” Sawamura taunts, using another quip from their childhood. Twenty years ago, Kuroo would have fired out a tart,  _ No, but I kiss your mom with it _ , which, in turn, would have enraged Sawamura like no other, and they would devolve into (relatively harmless) fisticuffs the way young, hyperactive boys sometimes do.

Now, Kuroo says: “No, but I could kiss  _ you _ , instead.”

The flush that spreads across Sawamura’s face is  _ so  _ worth it.

Kuroo could have done without the sharp jab of an elbow to his side, though.

* * *

Some time later, they walk down the streets of Miyagi, laughing and reminiscing. During dinner, Sawamura had scarfed down a serving three times Kuroo’s portion (some things really never change, it seems), and they caught up in each other’s current lives. Kuroo had clarified that no, he definitely is  _ not  _ married—he isn’t even seeing anyone, and maybe Sawamura had looked relieved, but Kuroo reasons it’s definitely only because the poor guy had thought Kuroo was an adulterous little shit.

Honestly, it’s a little funny now little faith Sawamura has in him, even after all these years.

Later, Kuroo had produced the letter that restarted this all, and they had laughed together as they pored over the contents. Sawamura had lamented his penmanship had not much improved in the interim, and Kuroo had teased him mercilessly. Kuroo had slipped into the seat next to Sawamura, too, but again, he had only rationalized that it was easier to look at the piece of paper that way.

Sawamura took pictures of the note and had sent them to Suga, who, after gushing over the fact that Kuroo was visiting and had  _ not  _ told him, had turned to teasing the two of them together, as he had back in elementary school.

(Suga had always hit too close to home, that perceptive bastard.)

Now, they amble to their next destination: this year’s local winter festival.

When they arrive at the entrance, Kuroo stops at a sign. Face aglow with childish happiness, he turns to Sawamura. “Let’s get dressed up!”

“Do we have to?” Sawamura pouts, never having been a fan of dressing up, not even for the formal events or school plays they had in their youth. And damn if that isn’t the cutest thing Kuroo had seen in a while.

“I’ll pay for it! This date is  _ my  _ treat remember?” Giving his friend no time to protest, Kuroo drags him by the hand to the nearest, least crowded kimono rental, which happens to be several blocks away. By the time they get there and are ushered inside, both Kuroo and Sawamura are panting and sufficiently sweaty that the head staff might have politely turned them away had Sawamura not stepped in to charm the pants off the elderly woman.

He always did have a way with the older ladies, that one.

Kuroo stays dutifully silent as Sawamura cajoles, smiles winningly, and just basically transforms into his most wholesome, winsome, good-boy-next-door self. Soon the staff is ushering them inside, guiding them directly to the kimonos and even making genuinely helpful suggestions on what would best suit them. Kuroo picks a deep maroon, with black, elegant florals, while Sawamura decides on a severe black piece, broken only by wisps of orange swirling at the back like clouds.

Less than half an hour later, both men are decked in their formal finery. Kuroo is inspecting himself in one of the shop’s full-length mirror when Sawamura steps out of the changing room looking—

—well,  _ damn. _

Looking absolutely, utterly, incredibly  _ handsome _ . To say the man is fine is an understatement, and in that moment, Kuroo, who makes a living talking and chatting and  _ communicating _ , has no words to say.

In his dumbfounded silence, Sawamura blushes. “What? Do I look stupid or what? I told you I didn’t want to dress up—”

“You look perfect!” Kuroo blurts, and maybe it’s a little too impassioned, a little too loud if the stunned looks they receive is any indication. Blushing himself, he clears his throat. “Err… you look good. C’mon! We only got a few hours left.” Kuroo bustles over to the counter, picking up the complementary festival set that came with their rental package (a blanket, a few extra shawls, scarves, and gloves if it gets too cold, an umbrella, and the rather ugly canvas bag they come in but better that than nothing), before he grabs Sawamura’s hands again, leading them back to the festival.

It’s a sly thing, Kuroo thinks, how many times he has already held Sawamura’s hand within the first day of reuniting alone. But Sawamura has made no move to dislodge him, and if anything, has actually gripped him back more firmly, especially once they’re inside the festival grounds. The throng of people makes it easy to lose each other, so Kuroo relishes the opportunity, and tugs him and Sawamura deeper into the crowd. 

They stop by stall after stall, booth after booth. Sawamura wolfs down even more festival foods like he hasn’t had a full dinner hardly an hour before. Kuroo is way too amused by the games and some of the more ridiculous prizes to be won. But it’s fine because Kuroo treats Sawamura to every food stall that would grab his attention (and that was nearly all of them and still the man isn’t  _ full _ ), and Sawamura would play at all the game stands Kuroo would point at and win him random shit he definitely does not need, from a giant stuffed toy cat to a shiny, volleyball keychain.

(He goes back to that stall later and bribes the owner to sell him another. He most definitely had overpaid for the silly trinket, but he has matching keychains with  _ Daichi _ , and that’s all that matters.)

((Kuroo’s got it  **_b a d_ ** **.** ))

Eventually they get tired, and Sawamura leads them to a copse of trees, just off the clearing where most of the attendees had gathered to watch the fireworks. The view of the night sky is partially obscured by the spindly branches, devoid of any foliage this deep into the winter, but it doesn’t matter because for one thing, Kuroo had seen fireworks before, and for another—

—he came here to be with Sawamura, and this almost private little nook is just the perfect place for their “date”.

Date.

No air quotes.

Because at some point between the hotel, the restaurant, the festival, this had become  _ real _ . 

And Kuroo may only be here for a month, but Sendai is only a hundred minutes away from Tokyo, and they don’t have to pass notes in class anymore, they can text and call and FaceTime  _ any time _ , and god  _ damn  _ if he wouldn’t at least see where this could possibly go.

(Is it possible to fall in love at eleven?)

((Is it possible to still be in love with him at thirty-one?))

“I’m glad you found that note.” Sawamura says, pulling out the blanket from the rental and making a place for them to sit on. The grass is frigid cold, but at least it hasn’t snowed yet, so it remains blessedly dry. Kuroo busies himself sorting his haul (Sawamura’s technically).

“Yeah, I am too.” He says, scooting closer to Sawamura and no longer pretending it's solely for body heat.

“You’ve had a busy first day.” The other man says, snaking an arm around Kuroo to pull out a large, knitted shawl from their bag. He drapes it around them, the garish pink clashing violently with the muted tones of their kimonos, but it doesn’t matter because Kuroo is warm and cozy and at peace.

(Well—frenzied butterflies in his stomach notwithstanding.)

“No, I’ve used up my  _ one  _ free day as I should. Work’s gonna eat me alive this month. Why’d you think I pestered you to hang out today?” Kuroo nudges his shoulder against Sawamura, the movement molding their sides together. Kuroo stays there, and when Sawamura remains as he is, Kuroo allows his cheek to perch on Sawamura’s head.

(He still smells of fresh rainwater and a pleasant summer’s eve.)

“You could’ve just asked like a normal person, I would’ve said yes if it’s you.”

Underneath the blankets, Sawamura reaches for Kuroo’s hand this time. Their fingers intertwine.

“Damn, Sa’amura, that’s gonna go straight to my head.” Kuroo teases.

“It’s a good thing you never found out how bad I had a crush on you. It would’ve been devastating.”

Kuroo’s heart skips a beat. “Wait—what?  _ You  _ had a crush on  _ me _ ?!”

Sawamura looks away with a slight blush that makes Kuroo just want to nibble his cheeks.

(He’s always wanted to nibble on Sawamura’s cheeks, come to think of it. They just look so  _ squishy _ .)

“I mean, yeah. Who didn’t? Everyone liked you.”

“Even you?”

Another eye roll. “Yes, especially me.”

“Well that’s just not fair.  _ I  _ had a crush on  _ you _ !”

“What? You did? How’s that not fair?”

“We could’ve been dating all this time, don’t you realize? We could have been married!” Kuroo laughs at the thought but there’s a grain of truth there that he wants to believe, and he sobers when it occurs to him just what  _ might  _ have been, had he known at eleven. 

Maybe they would have dated. Certainly it wouldn’t be anything serious at first. They’re literal children, after all. But maybe they would have stayed together, out of pure spite and tenacity if nothing else (Kuroo doesn’t think it’s impossible they would have  _ both  _ thought “breaking up” was the same as “giving up”, and in the heels of that thought is the wondering if it would not be the easiest thing to fall in love with Sawamura for real). Maybe they would have gone to middle school, high school, college together. Maybe they would have been that old married couple at fourteen, and they would be the same at forty.

(Yeah, Kuroo’s officially  _ gone. _ )

But he’s getting ahead of himself. It’s just a silly schoolboy crush, after all.

(Right?)

“I can’t believe you’re not married.” Kuroo says after a while, “Or even dating.”

Sawamura scoffs, “I could say the same of you.”

“Hmm… too busy, I guess? No. That’s not right. I just… didn’t like anyone like that. That much. Not enough to commit, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“You?”

“My ex cheated on me.”

Kuroo sucks in a breath. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Sawamura grins, “It was over a year ago. I’ve gotten over it.” He says. “‘Sides, it could be worse. He could’ve turned into the moon, or something.”

Kuroo cackles. “Good one.”

Silence descends after that, as silent as a festival full of people, all eagerly anticipating the fireworks could get. But the cacophony of noises and the bustling crowd are a distant hum in the background to the pounding beat of Kuroo’s own heart. He could hear the frantic staccato in his ears, loud and clear, as though his heart is trying to flutter free from the confines of his chest just like the words dangling from the tip of his suddenly too heavy tongue.

He turns to Sawamura.

Takes a deep breath.

Clears his throat.

“I…”

“Can I kiss you?”

And his heart just about stops.

“....buh- _wah_?”

(So does his brain, apparently.)

Sawamura— _ Daichi _ —smiles, equal parts amused and… something else. Something soft and pure and wonderful. “Can I kiss you… Tetsuro?”

There’s a teasing glint in Sawamura’s eyes that Kuroo might have mistaken to mean he is only joking, but there’s an undercurrent of earnestness too. A vulnerable eagerness that Kuroo sees reflected in his own face. So he swallows thickly, and nods.

Sawamura smiles, wide and blinding, before he slowly closes the distance between them. Gently, like approaching a skittish animal, he presses his lips to Kuroo’s.

_ Oh. _

There are no fireworks. The world continues to move. He still hears the crowd beyond. Still feels the biting cold. He knows Sawamura’s lips are cold, too, and a little bit chapped. There’s no earth-shattering, life-altering moment.

It's just a kiss.

And it’s the rightest feeling in the world.

**_Oh._ **

It’s the span of a few seconds, but when Kuroo, frozen in his realizations (and a bit with the winter cold, actually) does not respond, Sawamura begins to pull back, eyes fluttering open and confusion beginning to settle in them. Kuroo sees this all because he’s stupidly kept his eyes open the whole time, so he quickly follows after him, pressing  _ his  _ lips to Sawamura’s, this time angling for a deeper peck. 

Sawamura gasps a little at the abrupt movement, but a heartbeat later he is kissing Kuroo back in earnest, his free hand coming up to rest on Kuroo’s cheek. Warm from where it has been resting in their nest of scarves and blankets (and Sawamura being warm, as a matter of course), his palm sears Kuroo’s too-cold face, and it’s like the heat spreads to the rest of him because one moment Kuroo is cold from the frigid winter night, and the next he is hot all over, like a fire has been kindled in him, burning hot and bright.

His heart strums a steady beat, sure and strong, and he really has never felt anything as right as this moment.

They kiss for long minutes, and  _ then  _ the fireworks go off, the world fading behind his closed lids in an explosion of colors and sounds of happiness, the February wind picking up rustling the trees and caressing him with icy cold fingers, and he  _ feels  _ all of this—

—but he feels Sawamura first and foremost and that’s all that matters.

Eventually, they break apart, but they keep their foreheads touching, and they stay huddled and cuddling under the blankets. Kuroo has himself completely wrapped around Sawamura’s warm form, leeching off his heat and wanting to be as close as possible to him.

“Hey,” Kuroo says. “Don’t tell anyone but… I think I have a crush on you.”

Sawamura laughs, “What a coincidence. I think I have a crush on you too.” Kuroo kisses the smile on his lips.

“Do you want to go on another date with me?” Kuroo asks with a grin, “I should have my allowance again next week. Or tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I want to go on many dates with you.”

“Good. That’s good.” Kuroo hugs Sawamura tighter, nudging him until the shorter man is almost completely splayed across Kuroo, and it’s a little uncomfortable because Sawamura  _ is  _ bulkier than him and all, but it doesn’t matter because everything still feels right and perfect. “We’ll have this month to go on all those dates and then… then we’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, I’m getting transferred at the end of the month.”

Kuroo stops cold. 

Pulling away from him slightly, Sawamura meets his eyes, “I’ll be reassigned to a new station. It’s in a small city called—uh, what was it—Tokyo. You heard of it?” The taunting smirk lights up Sawamura’s features brighter than the fireworks, and Kuroo laughs in surprise.

“Sa’amura, you bastard! You’re moving to Tokyo!? What an insane coincidence.”

Sawamura simply shrugs and with a smile lingering on his lips, kisses Kuroo once more.

Kuroo doesn’t think it’s a coincidence.

Kuroo thinks it’s fate.

(Yaku  _ still  _ maintains it was just happenstance, but he’s genuinely happy for Kuroo.)

((He says as much in their wedding three years later.))

**Author's Note:**

> Peep that A:TLA reference 👀
> 
> Say hi on [Twitter, @natedecoco](https://twitter.com/natedecocohq)!


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